A Seductive Lady Rescued From Flames (Historical Regency Romance)

by Emily Honeyfield

  Her laughter rang out, false and glittery. Aunt Renata said something humdrum, like, “Oh, that’s so lovely to hear, isn’t it, dear brother?” Diana struggled to hear precisely what she’d said over the wild beating in her head.

  “I do enjoy quail,” Ernest agreed, his voice forced.

  “Oh, enjoy it? I should tell them precisely what happened last time I had the cook make it for you,” Grace continued. Her eyes flashed evilly. “I could hardly get a word out of him. He ate so quickly and then took a nightcap with father in the study. Of course, when I got him to myself a half-hour later, he was all but knocked out. His eyes were almost fully closed. Imagine that! I spend all evening doing my hair and makeup, only for him to fall asleep directly beside me. I suppose that’s an image of our future married life, isn’t it, darling?”

  Ernest’s cheeks burned red. Diana’s stomach quaked with embarrassment. Grace seemed to be making a firm decision to show off just how well she knew Ernest, just how long they’d been courting, just how close they would eventually be—with their grand titles of husband and wife.

  “It’s just adorable how long the two of you have known one another,” Aunt Renata chirped. She stabbed a bit of duck onto her tongue and chewed, leaving a bit of sauce on her cheek.

  Diana prayed her aunt would catch it herself with her napkin. She pressed her lips together, peering down at her still uneaten food, wondering if she’d have the strength to tuck in.

  Now, Grace slotted her own fork into her duck and blinked at Diana. Diana felt suddenly as though they were performing some sort of show for the other family members and Ernest and Rose, a story that Diana hadn’t been allowed to see the script for.

  “That dress, darling,” Grace said, her voice heavy. “Ernest really should have mentioned that you need something else for nicer affairs. Darling, please remind me to bring a few of the things I don’t wear anymore to yours, won’t you? Diana cannot attend dinners in such a way.”

  Diana’s cheeks burned. She forced a smile, then whispered, “It’s really quite all right. Ernest and Rose have been kind enough to put a few things together for me. I shouldn’t really expect anything else.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’m sure you have every bit the affinity for fine things that I do. Of course, Rose here has never had quite the same flair for fashion.”

  Rose’s nostrils flared. “I beg your pardon, Grace?”

  Grace tittered, as though this sort of banter was something she and Rose fell into all the time. “Darling, you really do thrill me with your attitude. I never know quite what she’s going to say next!”

  “You’ve just insulted Diana’s clothing—and thus my own choices,” Rose pointed out, stitching her brows together.

  “It wasn’t an insult, Rose,” Diana interjected quickly. She cast her foot under the table, kicking Rose lightly. “It was simply an offering. A nicety. I really do appreciate it, Grace. The earl would surely be nothing without his countess.”

  Grace glowered at her, yet kept her voice light. “That’s precisely what I’ve told him.”

  Diana’s father began to cough after this, a rollicking one that shook his entire frame. Diana shot up from her chair and hustled to his side, drawing her hand across his shoulder. Lord Harrington brought his napkin over his lips, colour draining from his cheeks. Diana soon forgot completely about Grace’s presence and began to mutter, “Just breathe, Father. It’s the smoke. It will soon pass.”

  Terror shot through her. Before she knew what was happening, Ernest was at her side, looking at her with a fierce expression. Diana felt unable to breathe, herself.

  “Perhaps it’s better if I take him outside,” Ernest suggested, his cheeks hollowing out with worry.

  “No, no,” Lord Harrington protested, letting a few additional coughs burst out. “Truly, I’m quite all right. It’s just this last bit of smoke—” He fell into another, shorter fit, then tapped his mouth with his napkin.

  Slowly, Diana returned to her chair, noting that her father still had an enormous glass of water in front of him. He wrapped his enormous hand around it, his face falling with an apparent feeling of gratefulness. Together, all members of the table watched him drink, then draw the back of his hand across his lips. He allowed his shoulders to sag slightly, seemingly embarrassed.

  “I only hope soon you’re feeling like yourself,” Rose offered, speaking for the first time since they’d all arrived at the table.

  “Marvellous, Rose,” Grace chirped. “That’s the first kind thing I’ve heard you say in months. Perhaps she really is growing up, hmm, Ernest?”

  Ernest ignored this wretched remark, instead maintaining his attention for Lord Harrington. “I know that smoke inhalation can linger far longer than you’d expect.”

  There was a long pause. Grace’s smile stretched out almost too wide, as though her cheeks might burst. “I know it would fill me with such sadness, knowing so many of my fine things were gone,” she said. She drew her knife across her duck, cutting it with a precision that seemed almost clinical.

  “They’re just things,” Diana heard herself saying, surprising herself. “Everything we needed at the estate, we still have. That is—we’re all here together. Even the staff made it out alive.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Your brave decision to go in after the maid.” Grace’s voice simmered with sarcasm. “I can’t imagine what could have possessed you to do such a thing.”

  “She’s been with me since I was a girl,” Diana explained.

  She so yearned to tell Grace that she’d lost enough already; that her life as a girl had been lined with sadness and indecision and loss. Her mother and sister were buried side-by-side near the line of trees, just a minute’s walk from her sister’s favourite sitting place in the rose garden.

  She was grateful that patch hadn’t been burnt; that when the roses bloomed, she would be able to sit in the patch of sunlight and gaze up at the clouds, speaking to her sister in the manner that was purely their own. Of course, this was nothing she could possibly explain to anyone. She kept her lips pressed shut.

  “I would absolutely do the same,” Rose said, seeming spitting with anger. She stabbed a potato into her mouth and chewed quickly, staring Grace down in a manner that seemed almost murderous. “But I suppose it’s a bit difficult for you to think of anyone but yourself.”

  Grace let out a twinkling laugh, one that might have been musical if it hadn’t been so demonic in origin. “Oh, Rosie. You really are a card, aren’t you?”

  The conversation drifted after that. For a brief time, Lord Harrington held the room, speaking about the historic textbooks he’d recently begun to read—all destroyed in the fire, although the knowledge lingered on in his mind. Ernest mentioned that he had similar texts in his library, and that Lord Harrington need only skirt through the bookshelves, looking for whatever he wanted. Diana remarked that she hadn’t yet visited the library, which led to Rose citing it as one of the best private collections in the city of London.

  Grace scoffed at this fact, saying that one of her friends from her youth had a library twice the size as theirs. At this, Rose cast her a stern expression, saying, “I wasn’t yet aware you could read?” before returning to her meal.

  Diana felt laughter bubbling up from her stomach, drawing up through her throat. She cut it short, falling into a snort, which brought her Aunt Renata to question, “Are you quite all right, dear? The smoke inhalation, it must be.”

  “I’m fine, Auntie.”

  After dessert, the party gathered in the parlour for post-dinner drinks. Rose perched in a chair near the window, whilst Grace sauntered toward the sofa to insert herself next to Ernest. Ernest’s cheeks fell toward his neck at this situation, showing his internal despair. Diana sat alongside her aunt, whilst her father remained standing, saying that his legs had become stiff throughout dinner.

  Suddenly, Rose caught Diana’s eye and gave her the most formidable wink. Diana looked at her, flummoxed, wondering what on earth
the girl could cook up next. Without pause, Rose whirled toward Grace, beaming at her with all the confidence of a tried and true society girl.

  “You must have heard the news, Grace,” Rose said, her voice far higher-pitched than normal.

  Grace’s little ears leapt up as though they had strings attached. “What is it? What news?”

  “The story about Theresa’s new beau? Of course, he had to find it within himself to break the news to Cecilia. My, what a scandal!”

  “You must be joking,” Grace said. Her eyes glittered, like a hunter beaming in on his prey. “Marcus left Cecilia for Theresa? But why? Theresa’s nose—it’s absolutely wretched. I suppose she’s able to hang a coat on that thing.”

  “Precisely what I said,” Rose affirmed. “But you see, apparently Cecilia already had some sort of side dish—do you know Thomas?”

  Grace’s mouth turned into a round O. It no longer seemed she wanted to belittle Rose; rather, Rose was newly a method for Grace to discover gossip, to broaden her image of the horrendous world around them.

  Diana should have understood that Rose was on the warpath—that this was a method to allow Diana and Ernest to have a moment alone. Suddenly, Ernest erupted from his seat beside Grace—something Grace didn’t notice, as she was far too entrenched in the situation at hand—and darted out of the room. He turned his eyes toward Diana for a long moment, seemingly telling her just precisely what he wanted her to do. All she had to do was make an excuse, follow out of the room, and find him.

  All she had to do was be brave in the face of this wretched, fresh situation.

  How unusual her life was now, only days after the fire that had cast her and her family on a far different trajectory!

  Aunt Renata and Diana’s father seemed half-engrossed in the gossip, as this wasn’t the sort of conversation Diana ordinarily brought home. Occasionally, her father grunted, saying, “My goodness!” at the particularly abrasive parts, and, “You don’t say!” when he found himself shocked.

  Slowly, Diana rose from her chair, realizing that Grace wouldn’t notice her, as she was far too engrossed in the conversation. She turned toward the doorway, feeling Ernest as a presence on the other side—unseen, and yet right there, just right there. How she longed to feel his touch again. How she yearned for him.

  Diana cut from the room, her heart fluttering in her throat. Sure enough, Ernest stood just out of sight of the others, a dark shadow in the hall. His black hair fluttered across his eyes. He looked down at her sternly from his over-six-foot height, almost as though she’d arranged this, she’d planned this current confusion in his heart.

  “Hi,” she whispered, wanting to throw herself upon him, draw her lips over his. She held herself back, breathing heavily.

  His hands hung, twitching slightly, at his sides. Diana had the sudden idea that he wanted to place them over her, feel the swell of her breasts and the flat of her stomach. She shivered, taking a slight step toward him. There were only a few inches between them, and the tension in the air was difficult to breathe through.

  When he finally spoke, Ernest did so with fear glittering in his eyes.

  “I need to apologize to you,” he muttered, low enough that it didn’t overtake the raucous gossip in the next room.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” Diana murmured.

  “I do,” he continued. His eyes flashed. “She’s absolutely horrendous to be around. She’s like a black hole, drawing everyone into her darkness. I know this, and I have always known it. And the way she speaks about you, it’s in a manner that belittles your very existence. And yet, in you, I see nothing to belittle. I see only the sort of woman who would leap into a burning building and save her favourite maid. I see only the sort of woman who is kind and giving and witty, eager to climb up the nearest tree yet comprehending of how damaging that might be to those around her.”

  Diana swallowed. Her throat was entirely too tight, making the action painful. “Can I ask you something?”

  The earl cut his head forward. “Anything.”

  “Why will you put yourself through this life? Why will you marry someone you don’t believe you could ever love?”

  Perhaps this was too forward. It revealed that she’d spoken at length regarding this issue with his sister. Yet, perhaps this was also written in the air around them, an apparent fact. Regardless, Ernest couldn’t deny it.

  “I was my father’s bidding,” he whispered. “On his deathbed, he told me he wanted nothing more than my happiness with Grace. The woman tears me apart, in every possible way, but I must uphold his wishes. My father meant everything to me, Diana. If I linger on this planet without him, I want to at least know that I’ve done my utmost to make him happy.”

  Diana parted her lips, searching for something to say. But Ernest continued, seemingly falling into a cavern of emotion.

  “I would like nothing more than to break off this engagement. Perhaps Rose has told you. Or, perhaps, it is my eyes when I look at her. I know I give her nothing of the love you’re meant to, as a future wife, a future mother…”

  Mother? This word rang out between them, filled with so much expectation, so much pain. Grace? Birthing his sons, his daughters? This brought horrific images to Diana’s mind—images of lust, of passion, of crying out one another’s names…

  In the midst of this chaotic inner monologue, Ernest gripped Diana’s hand. The touch was akin to the fire that had flickered across her cheeks as she’d made herself through her burning mansion. Now, he brought it toward his lips, beaming down upon her. He kissed the fingers gently, making Diana’s heart leap into her throat. Her lips fell open. Her body ached to press against his, to feel the taut muscles of his belly against her breasts, to feel her nipples harden against his skin.

  Suddenly, Rose’s voice rang out, making a joke about this woman she’d been fake-gossiping about. Diana wondered if she’d even crafted the entire story for Diana’s benefit, only to get Ernest and Diana together, half-alone, yet within ear-reach.

  At Rose’s words, Aunt Renata’s laughter sprung forward like an animal, rollicking off the walls. Diana took a slight step back in surprise, her eyebrows arching. Her mouth formed a round O. It was as though the curtains had been lifted, shedding fresh light upon the situation between her and Ernest. At once, her mind was awash with memory—she was hiding from Ernest’s fiancée, mere feet away from where she was gossiping. Was this truly the sort of person she wanted to be? Her heart hammered as she drew herself back toward the parlour, falling back into the eyesight of her father, her aunt, Rose, and Grace.

  After a moment, Ernest shuffled back into the room, making it seem as though they’d been operating on far different timetables. Diana’s cheeks burned. Grace remained completely entranced with Rose’s story, pegging her with question after question, drawing her fingers through her glowing hair. Diana drew deeper within herself, feeling Ernest’s eyes upon her. She wished she would have told him to stop being so obvious in the face of his fiancée, especially if he didn’t have any sort of inclination to leave her. Sure—he wanted it. But did he have the bravery to go through with it?

  How ridiculous, Diana thought now. She’d known Ernest for only a few days, and yet she already felt willing to toss over her entire life for him, to ask him to change his for her. She shifted in her chair, drawing one leg over the other, then moving her foot back to the ground. She felt as though she was crawling out of her skin—as though she no longer had a home within her body.

  Chapter 11

  Of course, the moment Grace fell out of her gossip-filled reverie, she noted that the entire rest of the room had been quite focused and quiet throughout. She blinked at Rose, who was now lending her a rather surly, pleased-with-herself expression. Grace’s heart bolted down into her belly. Suddenly, she realized something had happened—that she’d been had, in some manner. She just wasn’t entirely sure of how.